


In Case of Emergency

by melissajade



Series: Fighting Through the Dark [1]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Assault, F/M, Rape, Sexual Assault, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-07-08 15:56:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19872217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissajade/pseuds/melissajade
Summary: Despite the years of radio silence, he would be lying if he said he did not from time to time think of her, dream of her, even long for her. He had long since accepted that Veronica would always be tattooed across his soul.But when she’d occupied his thoughts, he never imagined her like this: a tube down her throat; her left eye swollen shut; abrasions and bruises maring her face, neck and arms and her fingernails mangled and bloody. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out. As a naval aviator, he had seen his fair share of horror, death and other unspeakable things; he had even been responsible for it, under orders.But this, this was different. Nothing, not his training, not even the abuse he endured at the hands of his own father, could have prepared him for seeing her like this.





	1. Breaking the Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Recently I randomly remembered the mother of a friend of mine (who is a nurse) who aways told us not to password protect our phones and in our contact lists always have a few people listed as ICE which means 'In Case of Emergency'. She said its often one of the first places paramedics or hospital staff will check if a victims phone is found at the scene of any accident. Like everyone I have been binging the series, movie and books in the lead up to the new series and I started thinking about the line in the movie Logan says to Veronica: 'Nine years of radio silence and yet I still kind of knew that I could count on you.' That got me thinking if the situation were reversed, not insofar that Veronica is accused of murder, because that would too obvious, but reversed in that she was the one in crisis, would Logan run across the country to help her. My answer was immediately a yes and I wanted to explore that in conjunction with her sexual trauma. This was never dealt or even handled properly in the first place on the show.
> 
> So the story is part one of three and is set around a week prior to the beginning of the movie and the universe remains canon apart from one minor alteration in that Veronica did date Piz but they broke up a few months prior to the commencement of this story for reasons largely related to the stories premise. Carrie's murder will remain within the same timeline, only Logan won't be in Neptune to be used as Cobb's patsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta [cattyk8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattyk8/pseuds/cattyk8) who not only does a brilliant job editing my work, but is also both my sounding board and voice of encouragement.

The shrill ringing and vibrating hum of his phone jarred him from a deep sleep. Without opening his eyes, he reached across his bed, feeling for his phone and cursing the person who would call at such an hour. Finally grasping his phone, he cracked his eyes open, frowning at the unrecognizable number before sliding his thumb across the screen to accept the call.

“Hello,” he answered, his voice rasping. 

“Is this Logan Echolls?” asked the caller, a woman whose dulcet tones he didn't recognize.

“Yes, speaking.” he responded, his voice clearer as he became more alert.

“I apologize for the late hour, Mr. Echolls. My name is Olivia, and I am a nurse at Mount SInai Hospital in New York City. I’m calling because you are listed as an emergency contact for patient Veronica Mars.” Her voice did not falter as she explained the reason for her call. 

At the sound of her name, Logan sat up in bed as a cold chill went down his spine. “Is she okay? I...what happened?” he asked, adrenaline now coursing through his veins. He pulled the covers from his body and climbed out of bed.

“Ms. Mars is currently in surgery, and I’m afraid that’s all I can advise over the phone,” she replied apologetically.

“Wait, what about her dad? Veronica hasn’t spoken to me in nine years.” _Surely there had to be some kind of mistake,_ he thought.

“We have been unable to establish contact with Mr. Mars. I was hoping you might be able to get in contact with him.” Then her tone softened. “She’s going to _need_ someone to be there when she wakes up.”

“I’ll take care of it. I’m on my way,” he assured her before ending the call. Logan didn’t spend time thinking about all the _whys_ of the situation; his naval training had taught him to prioritize action in emergencies.

Logan grabbed a suitcase and threw in some clothes and toiletries. He then changed, called a cab, picked his wallet up and left a note for Dick. He checked the time, 1.32am. There was only one avenue he could think of to contact Keith Mars. He opened the web browser on his phone and searched for Cliff McCormack’s website, clicked on the first link and then scrolled until he found his mobile number listed under contact details.

He turned to the cab driver. “Airport.” The cab driver nodded, keyed the address into his GPS and began driving.

“Hello,” a groggy voice answered.

“Cliff, Logan Echolls, sorry for the early—”

“Ahh, Mr. Echolls, what is it this time? Murder in the first or second degree?” he drawled out.

“Neither. Haven’t you heard? The Navy set me straight. I’m a model citizen, _sir_ ,” he deadpanned.

“How very _boring_. Well, you want to explain why you’re calling me at 1.46 in the morning kid?” 

“I need you to get in contact with Mr. Mars. It’s about Veronica...she’s been in an accident, and the hospital hasn’t been able to contact him.” 

“Is she ok?” Cliff asked, concern in his voice.

“She’s in surgery at Mount Sinai Hospital...they, uh, wouldn’t tell me anything else over the phone. I’m heading to the airport now,” Logan explained as he paid the cab driver and took his suitcase from the trunk.

“I spoke with Keith the other day, and he was heading out after a bail jumper. Probably why they haven’t been able to make contact.” The sound of rustling was heard over the phone. “I’ve got your number from caller ID. I’ll make sure he gets the message and knows to contact you.” There was a pregnant pause. “Logan, if there’s news before he calls—”

“I’ll call you right away,” Logan promised.

“I appreciate that. She’s like...” He stopped to clear his throat. “I got a lot of time for Vee,” he amended before ending the call. 

Logan pocketed his phone in his jacket as he approached the counter.

“I need a ticket on your next available flight to New York,” he told the tired-looking woman behind the desk.

“Sure. Let me see.” She smiled at him and turned to type on her computer. “I can get you on a flight in thirty minutes in first class or for a more affordable option I can have you on a flight in coach leaving in an hour.”

“First class,” he said and handed over his black AMEX. Cost was the last thing on his mind. This was for Veronica, and he knew he would pretty much walk through fire for her. Spending a few hundred dollars more for a first class ticket? That was nothing.

Logan spent the five-and-a-half hour flight with his thoughts occupied by varying scenarios of what could have happened, wondering how hurt she was, and terrified at the thought of losing her before really getting to see her again. 

When the plane finally landed, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. While he anxiously sat in the cab taking him to the hospital, he flicked through the 10 missed calls and 6 text messages he had received from Dick this morning. He didn’t open any of the messages, already knowing instinctively what they would say. Dick had never been Veronicas biggest fan, _particularly_ when it came to their former relationship. He told himself he’d call him later, when he had more concrete information to share.

The car came to a stop, and the driver turned to him for payment. Logan hastily thrust a few bills his way to cover the fare and then some before getting out and retrieving his luggage. He headed into the hospital, looking around until he spotted the information desk. He approached a nurse who sat behind it, typing briskly on the computer. She glanced up at him as he approached.

“Can I help you?” Her tone was friendly but weary from what had probably been a long shift.

“Could you tell me which room Veronica Mars is in?” 

She turned to the computer and began typing, presumably searching for her name. She turned back to him a moment later. “She’s in the surgical wing, are you family?” 

“I’m her emergency contact,” he answered. “And her fiance,” he amended, realizing he might not be permitted to see her unless he was family.

“Take the elevator on the left to the fourth floor, then turn right at the nurses’ station. Your fiancee is in room 4204,” she answered, her expression full of sympathy. 

He followed her instructions, feeling like his heart was in his throat. He stepped out of the elevator to the fourth floor and turned right at the nurses’ station. Straight ahead, he saw a blue sign outside a room clearly marked 4204. The door to the room was glass. He felt his breath leave his body as he saw her for the first time in nine years.

Despite the years of radio silence, he would be lying if he said he did not from time to time think of her, dream of her, even _long_ for her. He had long since accepted that Veronica would always be tattooed across his soul. 

But when she’d occupied his thoughts, he _never_ imagined her like this: a tube down her throat; her left eye swollen shut; abrasions and bruises maring her face, neck and arms and her fingernails mangled and bloody. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out. As a naval aviator, he had seen his fair share of horror, death and other unspeakable things; he had even been responsible for it, under orders. 

  
But this, _this_ was different. Nothing, not his training, not even the abuse he endured at the hands of his own father, could have prepared him for seeing her like _this_.


	2. An Unspoken Question

Logan walked into her room and slowly lowered himself into the chair at her bedside, his eyes never leaving her still form. The only signs of life were the intermittent beeping of the machines and the sounds of oxygen being pushed through her ventilator. He reached for her hand and clasped it into his own, careful not to disturb her IV line. He barely registered the sounds of footsteps walking into the room.

“You must be Mr. Echolls,” remarked the dulcet tones of the female voice he’d heard over the phone only hours ago.

He turned to see a petite woman wearing surgical scrubs and a sympathetic expression. “Olivia, right?”

“So what lie did you have to tell to get in here?” She smirked.

“I, uh, told the nurse downstairs I was her fiance,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you going to rat me out?”

“No,” she promised. “Like I said, she’s going to need somebody when she wakes up.” She moved to the other side of the bed and glanced up at the monitors taking note of Veronica’s vitals.

“I still don’t understand why, after all this time, she would make me one of her emergency contacts. I figured she would have named Wallace or even Mac,” he pondered.

“People forget to change their emergency contacts all the time, but when I was unable to contact her father, I looked through her phone for an alternate contact. You and her father were listed in her contact list as ‘ICE,’” she commented as she recorded something down on the clipboard she was carrying.

He frowned. “ICE?”

“It means ‘in case of emergency,’” she explained as she walked around to his side of the bed. 

Logan dropped Veronica’s hand and sat back to give Olivia room to work. “It’s not a well-known acronym or widely used. So I would assume your friend here has family that’s either worked in the medical field or as a first responder,” she surmised as she cleaned dried blood from around her IV insertion site.

“Her dad. He was once sheriff and he’s now a private investigator.”

“That would explain it,” she murmured as she unhooked Veronica’s IV line and pulled off the empty saline bag from the stand beside her bed and tossed it into a yellow medical waste bin. “People forget to update their emergency contacts all the time.” 

She hung a new saline bag and reconnected her IV before turning to him. “But having someone listed as an ‘ICE’ is a little more deliberate. I don’t know your friend, but I get the feeling that maybe she felt that, no matter what, she could always count on you. I’d say she’s right. Well, you _are_ here, aren’t you?” she deadpanned. Then she offered up a warm smile as Logan looked up at her frowning.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I guess I am.”

“I’ll go get her doctors so they can fill you in and update you on her progress,” she advised and then left him alone with his thoughts. 

He reached out and took Veronica’s hand once more. He felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He fished it out and slid his thumb across the screen to accept the call from a california number.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Logan, it’s Keith Mars, I got Cliff’s message about Veronica.” Keith spoke hurriedly, his tone filled with worry for his only daughter. “What happened? Is my daughter okay?”

“I’m with her now, but she’s still unconscious,” he said. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the next part. “They haven’t told me anything, but her doctors should be here any minute, but...she’s hurt. She’s had surgery. She’s _alive_.” He felt himself stressing the last part as both reassurance to Keith and as a reminder to himself. “But she looks hurt, _badly_.” Logan could hear the sharp intake of breath over the line as Keith tried to compose himself.

“I don’t know _why_ they called you, but I’m _grateful_ all the same, Logan.” 

There was a pregnant pause and even after all these years he felt he was getting the _‘I’m grateful you showed up for my daughter, but I’m not still not your biggest fan’_ speech. 

Keith cleared his throat. “I am in Texas, heading to the airport. I should be around three and a half hours or longer depending on what flight I can get.”

“Okay. I’ll try calling—” He paused as he heard footsteps walking into the room. He glanced up to see a tall dark headed male in navy scrubs and white lab coat and a shorter red headed female in purple scrubs with the same white lab coat.

“Logan?” Keith questioned. 

“Hold on a second, Mr. Mars. Her doctors are here. I’m going to put you on loudspeaker.” He stood up from his seat and set his phone down on the table at the foot of Veronica’s bed, then hit the speaker button.

“I’m Dr. Feldman, and this is Dr. Hastings,” the lead doctor introduced himself and his female colleague. 

Logan moved forward and shook both of their hands. “Logan,” he introduced himself. “Veronica’s father is on speaker phone.” 

“Doctor, what happened to my daughter? Is she going to be okay?” Keith immediately asked, tension evident in his voice.

“Mr. Mars, first let me assure you that your daughter’s vitals are currently stable.” The sound of breath exhaling was heard from Logan’s phone. “As to what happened to her, Ms. Mars was brought into the ER just after 2am by paramedics after being found unconscious and brutally assaulted just outside of Lenfest Hall on George Carlin Way. Her stats dropped as we began to examine her, and her abdomen was rigid indicating internal bleeding. She was immediately transported to the OR.” 

Logan felt the blood drain from his head at the doctor’s matter-of-fact recitation, but he didn’t interrupt.

“The source of the bleeding was her spleen, which we had to remove. She sustained head trauma, and while there doesn’t appear to be any bleeding to her brain at this time, we will be monitoring her ICPs for the next twenty-four hours as a precaution. The rest of her injuries are not life threatening, and she will recover in time. She has sustained multiple bruises, lacerations and several cracked and broken ribs. There also appears to be swelling to her throat, which is consistent with strangulation.” 

Logan felt a chill run down his spine as the doctor listed all her injuries. He swallowed thickly. “Was she,” he began to ask, but it was as if his throat had closed. 

He took in a shaky breath and exhaled before attempting to ask his question a second time. The question whose answer he hoped to whatever higher power existed was a _no_. “Was she... _raped_?” 

Dr. Feldman turned his gaze to Dr. Hastings and she stepped forward, her demeanour full of empathy.

“Ms. Mars was found at the scene with torn underwear, and upon visual examination, there were signs of bruising and lacerations to her inner thigh and vaginal area. She’s also not the only one. There have been four women brought in the last two weeks, all with similar injuries. But until she is conscious we won’t know for sure.” 

The sound of a phone hitting the floor was heard over the phone line, and Logan’s hands instinctively balled into fists.

“She _may_ have been?” Logan was seething. “Aren’t you people _supposed_ to do a rape kit?”

“Logan,” she spoke softly, continuing to empathize with his frustration. "Rape kits can be quite invasive and traumatizing for the victim, and we're required to get Veronica's consent for every step of the sexual assault evidence collection kit. We would only run the kit without her consent in special circumstances."

"What kinds of circumstances?"

"If, for example, the patient is comatose, and her medical proxy authorized it. Veronica—" she spoke her name softly "—is going to wake up soon, and then it will be up to her."

“If you have any other questions, feel free to have the nurses page us,” Dr. Feldman interjected.

“Thank you doctor,” Keith answered. Dr. Feldman turned and left the room. Dr. Hastings remained. “Logan, I’m on my way.” His voice was barely audible before the call ended. 

Logan dropped himself down into the chair beside Veronica’s bed and placed his head in his hands. He allowed himself to finally be still for the first time since he’d been woken up by Olivia’s call that morning, and he felt the last remnants of adrenaline he had been running on since then drain away as he broke. 

Dr. Hastings dragged a chair beside him and sat down. “Her assailant was found unconscious beside her.” Logan looked up from his hands, his eyes red and watering. She tilted her head towards Veronica. “You see her hands. She fought back. In fact, her assailant was found with red eyes from pepper spray, burn marks into the side of his torso from a taser, and a pretty significant head wound. Safe to say she kicked his ass.”

Logan grinned. “That’s our girl.” Dr. Hastings stood up and began to leave. “Wait,” he called to her retreating form. She turned back to face him. “Why is she on a ventilator?”

“That’s just a precaution due to the surgery and the strangulation.” Noticing Logan’s frown, she explained further. “Sometimes in cases of strangulation, the throat can swell, so the ventilator ensures she continues to have oxygen. We’ll remove it when she regains consciousness.” She offered him a warm smile before departing the room. 

Logan wiped the tears that had escaped his eyes. He stood back up and retrieved his phone from the desk, deciding that he couldn’t put off calling Dick any longer. He selected the call button from his friend’s last text message.

“Dude! _Seriously_! Ronnie! She doesn't call you for nine years, but somehow she’s _still_ got you by the balls. I mean _why_ can’t you just quit her already?” 

“Dick—”

“Man, if it ain’t her, it’s fucking Carrie.”

“She’s in the hospital,” Logan said, exasperated.

“So, what, she couldn’t call her dad? She’s not your problem,” Dick spat out. “Not like she’s been there for you. Cause I can think of a time you could have used her.”

“She didn’t know,” Logan murmured. _And I didn’t want her to see me like that_.

“Yeah, because the first chance she got, she split!” 

Logan cut him off, his tone low but angry. “Dick, shut the fuck up. First, it was the hospital that called because she’s unconscious and they couldn’t get in contact with her dad. Second, she’s hurt bad. She’ll recover, but it’s bad, and I’m not going to tell you what happened because frankly that’s Veronica’s business, but I _need_ you to stop fucking railing on her right now.”

“Alright,” Dick conceded. “Look, I hope she’s okay. Call me if you need anything or whatever.” 

Logan didn’t bother to answer and just ended the call. He pocketed his phone and moved his chair closer to Veronica’s bed, feeling exhaustion overtake him. He laid his head on her bed and took her hand in his own again, then closed his eyes.

He awoke to the feeling of her hand squeezing his own. He didn’t know if it was minutes or hours since he fell asleep. He felt movement against his cheek and sat up to see her stirring. His eyes snapped up to her face, but her eyes remained closed. He stood up and moved to her bedside.

“Veronica,” he murmured to her, stroking her cheek, his touch considerate to the bruising and lacerations on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open, and blue met brown for the first time in nine years. Her eyes widened at first, alarmed, and then a moment later, her eyes and facial features relaxed. Logan felt her squeeze his hand. He tentatively stroked her cheek again and continued to do so when he felt her lean into his touch. “You’re safe now.” 

A lone tear slipped from her right eye, answering the unspoken question in the room.


	3. Drowning in the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
> 
> If this is not for you, and you want to skip over this part you can stop where it says:
> 
> **"After switching the recording device on, the detective recited..."**
> 
> and you then continue reading at the next line break, ie **'---'**
> 
> If you decide to read on, please be mindful to practice self-care. Go for a walk, listen to music, hang with a friend, do something that brings you joy, it can be anything. Self-care is so important. if you are feeling triggered or suicidal, talk to someone. Whether that be a friend, family member, online or calling a crisis and/or suicide prevention hotline. In Australia I would recommended Lifeline: 13 11 14.

Logan wiped the tear from her cheek and then leaned over to hit the nurses call button. He gazed back down at her. “Your dad is on his way,” he assured her. 

She squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. He barely registered the shuffling of footsteps as a nurse swept into the room, nor did his gaze leave hers.

“I’ll go get the doctor,” a male voice muttered, already observing she was awake. Veronica lifted her free hand slowly and wrapped it around her intubation tubing. Her blue eyes watered, almost _pleaded_. 

“They’re going to take it out,” he soothed her, stroking her cheek once more. Dr. Hastings swept into the room rolling an instrument tray.

“I’m Dr. Hastings. You are in the surgical ward at Mount Sinai Hospital.” She enunciated her every word clearly. “I’m going to take the tube out of your mouth. I will need you to cough for me, do you understand?” Veronica nodded. Dr. Hastings snapped on her gloves and removed the ventilator. “Now give me a nice big cough.” 

Veronica coughed and felt the tubing leave her tender throat and felt tears well in her eyes as pain shot up the sides of her body. 

“Great job,” Dr. Hastings praised as she handed Veronica a cup of water with a straw. “Nice and slow,” she warned as Veronica took a small sip, feeling the cool liquid soothing the pain in her swollen throat. She handed the cup back to the doctor, who placed it on her bedside table. 

Dr. Hastings leaned over her and began checking her pupillary response. Nodding her head in satisfaction she placed her penlight back into the front pocket of her lab coat. “Do you remember your name?” 

“V-Veronica Mars,” she croaked out.

“Good. Do you remember what happened to you?” Her voice was gentle and comforting as she sat down on the side of her bed.

Veronica blinked several times as she recalled the events that had led her here. She could hear the blood pumping in her ears as her heartbeat began to elevate once more. She saw in her mind the moment she’d felt hands around her throat both choking her and holding her down on the pavement, squeezing harder every time she tried to break free. She felt him rip her underwear and then…she blinked again, willing the images to disappear. She could hear the monitors beeping and Logan clasping her hand tightly. 

“Y-yes...I remember,” she choked out. Shutting her eyes tightly and then opening them once more to blink away the tears trying to escape. 

“It’s okay,” Dr. Hastings reassured her. “You don’t have to say any more. Let’s talk about your injuries and your recovery from here. You have had surgery in the last few hours. You had a rupture to your spleen, and we had to remove it. You have a contusion to your head, but so far there has been no signs of an active bleed to your brain. You also have several broken and cracked ribs and defensive wounds. You will need to remain here to be monitored, depending on how you respond in the next few days will determine how long you will need to remain in the hospital.” She apprised Veronica of her status in calm, efficient tones that actually helped keep her from losing it. “Any questions so far about your condition or treatment?”

Veronica shook her head.

“Lastly, we have not conducted a forensic examination. It’s hospital procedure to not do so without your consent. Do you wish us to proceed with a rape kit?” she asked as delicately as possible. Veronica sucked in an anticipatory breath. “You are not compelled to do so. It’s _entirely_ your choice.”

Veronica exhaled the breath she had been holding. “Do it,” she said. Determination burned behind her eyes, and the need for justice drove her, just as it had when she was sixteen.

“Okay.” She turned to Logan. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee? We’re going to need a little time.”

He nodded in understanding, his gaze shifting back to Veronica. “I’ll be back,” he promised, squeezing her hand gently. He stood up slowly, hesitant to leave her.

“It’s okay,” she told him. It really wasn’t, though. She didn’t want him to leave. She was still processing that he was here, but it was clear he wasn’t allowed to stay while they conducted the examination. He nodded silently, holding her gaze a moment longer and then left the room.

Over the course of the next few hours, Veronica found herself gritting her teeth and shedding tears more than she would want to admit as she underwent the examinations necessary for the rape kit. They drew blood for an STD panel, and she became nauseous when they offered her the morning after pill.

“How are you feeling?” 

Veronica’s head snapped up, jarring her from her thoughts to see Logan leaning against the doorframe, before pushing off and then crossing the room to sit back down in the chair beside her bed. He raised an eyebrow at her, the question less inquiry and more distraction.

“Like an elephant has sat on my head and stomped on my chest,” she remarked wryly.

“Apt description.” He smirked. “Nine years of radio silence, and yet somehow I still rate being named an emergency contact. Am I to infer you have secretly missed me?”

“About those nine years,” she awkwardly responded, dodging his question.

“Ah, bygones.” He dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “But I am curious as to why.”

“Well, you know what they say about about curiosity,” she snarked.

“That she’s blonde. Five foot one. Likes to avoid questions,” he quipped back at her.

She bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “I don’t know,” she turned back to him. “I guess deep down I always kind of knew that even when it was all said and done, I could count on you.”

“Always,” he nodded reverently. 

The moment was interrupted by a tall male nurse knocking on the door and poking his head in. “Ms. Mars, I have a Detective Shannahan who would like to speak with you. If you’re feeling up to it, of course.”

She sighed and then nodded. “Might as well get it over with.” 

The nurse left the room and then returned with a female detective. She was average height, long brown hair tied into a simple ponytail. She looked tough, but there was a quiet air to her, and it wasn’t just her experience on the job. There was empathy and she had a soothing presence. She sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the bed.

“Hello, Veronica. Is it okay if I call you by your given name?” her voice was gentle. Veronica nodded her consent. The detective turned to Logan. “Would you give us a minute, Mr.—?”

“Logan Echolls, I’m an old friend,” he introduced himself, standing and turning to Veronica. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He turned to leave, but she would not let go of his hand. Turning back, he noted her panicked expression.

“No, I don’t _want_ you to leave,” she said to him. She turned to the detective. “I _need_ him to stay.”

“Okay,” the other woman agreed. “Whatever makes this easier for you.” She pulled out a recording device and placed it on the bed beside Veronica. “Do you consent to this interview being recorded?” 

“Yes.” 

After switching the recording device on, the detective recited, “Case file number 428960. This is Detective Elizabeth Shannahan. Date is Saturday, 28 May 2016.” She paused to glance down at her watch. “Time is 2.26pm. Location is Room 4204 in the surgical wing of Mount Sinai Hospital, New York City. Interview is being conducted with Veronica Mars in the presence of her support person and friend, Logan Echolls. Veronica, can you take me through what happened?”

Veronica squeezed Logan’s hand tighter. “I was out at 1020 Bar on Amsterdam Avenue with some of my friends from law school. We were celebrating. We’d graduated from Columbia last week, and a couple of them were moving away, so I guess it was goodbye too. I left at around 1.15am. I had to be up early to move out of my dorm.”

“You were alone?” 

She nodded. “Yes. It wasn’t far away, so I walked back. I was near Lenfest when I felt someone grab me from behind. He put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream, and he dragged me from the street into this alley.” She paused for a moment. “He pushed me face-first into the brick wall. He kept his hand on the back of my head, holding me there. He pressed his body into me and then he lifted my dress. He squeezed my breasts, put his hand in my underwear—” She broke off, tears now falling as she described what happened. 

“Take your time,” Detective Shannahan said, her voice professional and soothing.

“He pushed my legs apart with his knee. I then heard the sound of him undoing his belt—” She shut her eyes and drew in a shaky breath. “I pushed back and broke free. But I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed my hair and pulled me back and into a headlock.” She could hear the sound of his breathing in her ear as if he were right beside her once more. “That was the first time he spoke to me.”

“What did he say to you?”

“‘No need to play hard to get.’ He turned me around to face him, put his hands on my ass and pulled me against him and said, ‘You already have me excited.’ He turned me around again and pushed me up against the wall. Just like before, and this time, I heard him unzip his pants. He pulled my underwear aside and he...well he tried to—” She couldn’t say the word, didn’t know _how_ to. “But I wouldn’t let him. I kept pushing him away, telling him to stop. That made him angry. He struck me twice to the back of the head, then turned me around and put his hands around my throat and he choked me.”

Logan tensed beside her. The hand that wasn’t holding hers balled in a fist beside him.

“I could barely breathe. He said, ‘You’re all so pretty like this.’ I started seeing black spots. I kneed him in the balls, and he let go. He grabbed me by the hair again, turned me around, and told me I was making things difficult.” 

She closed her eyes as she recalled that moment. _‘You.’_ Slap. _‘Are.’_ Slap. _‘Making.’_ Slap. _‘Things.’_ Slap. _‘Difficult.’_

“He slapped me several times, and then he punched me.” She brought her hand up to her swollen right eye. “I fell to the ground. I tried to crawl away, but he grabbed my legs and dragged me across the pavement. That’s how I got these I think.” She touched her left cheek. “He kicked me several times in the ribs. I felt dizzy and winded. Next thing I knew, he was on top of me.” 

She touched her bruised neck as the events that followed played in her mind. Her tears flowed silently down her cheeks. “I tried to roll out from under him, but he put his hand around my throat to hold me down. I hit him, scratched his face, anything to get him to stop. He just tightened his hold on my throat. He ripped my underwear off, and then he—” She couldn’t finish. Her breathing became labored. She turned to Logan, saw his face was a mask of barely controlled anger.

His features softened as he took in her haunted expression. His eyes searched hers for a moment, asking permission to come closer. She wanted to beg him to hold her, to make it all stop. He must have seen it in her gaze because he tentatively stood and sat on the bed beside her. She curled into his side, and he rested his head on top of hers.

“Veronica, do you want to take a break?” Veronica shook her head. “Did he penetrate you with his penis at this point?” Detective Shannahan asked as delicately as she could.

“Yes,” she choked out. “He put his other hand on my throat and choked me harder. I couldn’t breath again. I reached out to grab hold of something. I felt my bag and I managed to pull my mini taser out of it.”

“And you tasered him.” The detective nodded. The doctors had advised her of this.

“Yeah. I pushed him off me, took the pepper spray from my bag and ran towards the sidewalk. I didn’t get far. I felt dizzy.” She frowned, taking a moment to put the final pieces together. “I could hear him coming up behind me. So I sprayed him in the eyes with pepper spray. Then I hit him across the head with a piece of timber I found.”

“He was unconscious?”

“No. He tried to get up. So I hit him again.” There was an air of savageness in her tone. Detective Shannahan raised an eyebrow. Logan smirked with pride. “What? I didn’t want him getting back up.”

“What happened next?” the detective asked, barely containing a wry smirk at her bravery.

“I don’t know. I guess that’s when I passed out.” She brushed away the tears from her face. The truth was what felt like the Cliff Notes version, the reality that haunted her was far worse.

“Interview concluded at 2.56pm.” Detective Shannahan clicked off the recorder and pocketed it. “Thank you for your time, Veronica. I know that cannot have been easy.”

“Has he been arrested?” Logan interjected. “Her doctors said he was found unconscious beside her.”

“He’s being held for questioning. We’ll test his DNA against what was collected in her rape kit, and if our suspicions are right, it will not only implicate him but it will also connect him to four other female victims from the last two weeks and potentially others.” She stood, pulled her card from her jacket pocket, and handed it to Veronica. “In case you have any questions or think of anything else.” She offered an empathetic smile and took her leave.

Neither of them said anything. There was _nothing_ Logan felt he could say that would make this all right. All he could offer her was comfort in whatever way she would allow. He shifted his head to place a small kiss to her hair before resting his cheek back against the top of her head. He held her while she silently cried herself to sleep.

\---

Keith stood in the doorway of Veronica’s room, rooted to the spot as he took in the scene before him. He felt his stomach churn when he saw Veronica’s battered features. He cleared his throat and Logan jerked awake. Logan gently disentangled himself from Veronica, careful not to wake her, and crossed the room to meet him. Logan gestured with his hand for him to follow him out of the room so as not to wake Veronica.

“How is she?” Keith’s voice was thick with emotion.

“Physically, she’s going to be okay,” Logan murmured. “Emotionally, she’s struggling.”

“So she was—” Keith couldn’t even get the word out, let alone think about it. Logan nodded. “What happened?”

“Respectfully, sir, I’m not going to tell you that—”

“She’s my daughter—”

“And don’t you think she’s had enough taken from her right now?” When he glowered at the younger man’s words, Logan put his hands up as if in surrender. “Look, I am not trying to be disrespectful. But don’t you think it’s her right to tell you when she’s ready?”

He sighed, seeing Logan’s point. He lowered himself into a nearby chair and put his face in his hands. “The one time I forget my phone charger,” he cursed himself. “If it weren’t for you calling Cliff and him leaving a message at the hotel I was staying, I wouldn’t even have known.” Logan lowered himself into the chair beside him. “Why did the hospital call you?”

“She had me listed in her phone as ICE,” Logan explained.

“I hadn’t realized you two had been in contact over the years.” 

“We haven’t.” 

Keith raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, as I said, I’m grateful you were here.” He meant it too. “Look I understand you’re in the Navy now, so if you need to get back—”

“I’m on leave. So I'm here in whatever way she needs me.” Keith nodded, understanding he wasn’t going to leave unless Veronica forced him. He was grateful to Logan, but he hadn’t forgotten the troubled boy he used to be.

“Well, at the very least, go and get some sleep,” Keith said. Logan looked ready to protest, so he pushed a little harder. “You’re not going to be any good to her otherwise.”

Logan conceded his point, and they both stood. Keith held out his hand and the younger man shook it before turning to go. He then walked back into his daughter’s room and sat in the seat to her left. He reached forward, took her hand, and kissed the back of it. She stirred. “Veronica?”

She opened her eyes, squinting for a moment, then she managed a relieved smile. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.

“S’ok,” she murmured. “Logan’s been here.” She looked around. “Wait. Where’s Logan?!”

“He’s just gone to get some sleep.” Veronica visibly relaxed. “I don’t think threatening him with my gun would keep him away,” he said ruefully. “Speaking of, you do realize that an ICE contact should be someone you have spoken to in, I don’t know, the last nine years?”

“Dad,” she warned. 

He nodded in recognition that she didn’t want to talk about it, conceding and sat back down in the chair. “What happened honey?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay, Dad. It’s not _nearly_ as bad as you think.” 

Keith decided not to pry any further, but he didn’t for one second believe her.

\---

Veronica stared up at the ceiling. Her father had been kicked out by Nurse Ratchet a half hour ago, complaining under her breath about visiting hours. The room was silent, and she found herself unnerved by it. She wasn’t afraid of the silence; in fact, she welcomed the idea of solitude, to not have people poking her or pitying her. 

Logan was the exception. He offered her comfort, not pity; he was safe and familiar. What she did fear was being left to her own thoughts. She didn’t want to think, because thinking led to feeling, and she didn’t want to do that either. The problem was that solitude left her with nothing to do but think.

She could feel her heart racing as the minutes went by. She felt claustrophobic, as if the walls around her were boxing her in. She ripped the covers from her body and ripped out her IV. She forced herself out of her bed, despite her body protesting in pain, and crossed the room to the bathroom. There, she turned the tap on, cupping her hands to catch the cool water and splashing her face with it. She looked up into the mirror above the sink and took in her appearance for the very first time. 

Her right eye was swollen, half-closed, blackened. She touched the dried blood from the abrasions on her cheeks, her hands shaking as she took in her mangled fingernails. Her breathing became more labored the more she took in the physical evidence that this had happened to her, that she had been raped... _again_. None of it had really felt real until she’d looked into the mirror. 

The dam of tears, the pain that she was so desperate to not completely succumb to, finally broke through. She fell to her knees, gasping as the sobs wracked at her tired body. She felt completely broken, like she was no longer who she used to be. She was drowning in an abyss and she was not entirely sure _how_ she could resurface, and neither was she sure if she even _wanted_ to.

Logan walked into the bathroom and found her. She was on the ground, hyperventilating, her head and knees tucked into her chest as she rocked backward and forward. She looked so small, her white hospital gown dwarfing her small frame. He lowered himself onto his knees in front of her.

“Veronica,” he murmured gently. She lifted her head from her knees as she continued to sob. He reached a hand tentatively at her, silently asking her permission. She took his hand and held it like a lifeline. She leaned toward him and Logan closed the gap and lifted her across his lap, making sure to keep his grasp loose. “Is this okay?”

Wordlessly, she nodded and curled into him even further. He tucked her head under his chin and wrapped his arms around her, mindful of her ribs, which had to be hurting her. “Breathe, Veronica. Slow it down.” She took shaky, but slower breaths. After some time, her breathing returned to normal with the occasional sob.

“You are the most resilient person I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. "The things that would break others down, destroy them, only make you stronger. You just get right back up every time anything knocks you down. I _know_ it doesn’t feel like it right now, but that’s how I know you _will_ find your way through this.” He adjusted his grip on her and carried her back to the bed. He pulled the blankets over her and stroked her cheek. “Try and sleep.” It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, the day’s events clearly taking a toll on her. He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. Then he crossed the room, planning to go and get some coffee, the better to stay awake and watch over her in case she had nightmares or just needed him in any way.

“Wait.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. He stopped and turned back to her. “Don’t go.” Her blue eyes were pleading.

“Okay.”


	4. Nobody Asks To Be Raped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
> 
> If this is not for you, you can end the chapter at the following part:
> 
> **"She wasn’t ready right now, and it was if Logan instinctively knew that."**
> 
> If you decide to read on, please be mindful to practice self-care. Go for a walk, listen to music, hang with a friend, do something that brings you joy, it can be anything. Self-care is so important. if you are feeling triggered or suicidal, talk to someone. Whether that be a friend, family member, online or calling a crisis and/or suicide prevention hotline. In Australia I would recommended Lifeline: 13 11 14 and [RAINN](https://www.rainn.org/) is also a great resource.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an acknowledgement that a part of this chapter is borrowed, albeit modified, from MKAT (you will know it when you see it) all credit goes _wholly_ to Jennifer Graham, because lets face it, Rob Thomas has been carried by the writers he works with...and he's such a douche I hate crediting him for anything these days!

“Could you?” Her voice was vulnerable. Her arms hugged her body. It was as if she was trying to make herself smaller. His mind flashed back to nine years ago when she had sounded just like that. _Take me home_ , she had said. Logan crossed the room, climbed into bed with her and found himself cradling her in his arms, just like that night on the cement of the parking garage at Hearst.

“I wish I could change this for you,” he murmured. “I wish I could change _all_ of it. You don’t deserve any of this.”

She turned her head towards him. “Don’t I?” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s barely a six minute walk from the bar to Lenfest. I’ve gone that way so many times, just never alone. I wasn’t drunk, so I thought nothing of it.” She shook her head. “I always thought I had good judgment, even back then. I walked into that party knowing full well everybody hated me. But I just had to prove a point, didn’t I?” she said bitterly. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories of that night away. “Good judgment? No, I think I am just trying to justify my own stupidity, and in the end, I just got what I deserved.”

“You didn’t deserve this. Maybe you shouldn’t have walked alone. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to the party back then. But those decisions don’t alter the fact that _nobody_ asks to be raped.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Her eyes watered, her inner turmoil evident. But he could see she didn’t truly believe what she was saying. There was something in her eyes he recognized because he had worn that same expression himself. She _wanted_ someone to blame, and in place of actually taking it out on her rapist, it was easier to lay that blame on herself.

“Deep down you do believe it. Otherwise, you’d think that Lilly deserved to die because of the decisions she made.” She turned her head away from him as tears fell from her eyes. “People make their own choices. Lilly chose to sleep with Aaron, she chose to play with fire by taking the tapes. But Lilly didn’t choose to die, any more than you chose to be raped. Aaron chose to kill Lilly. Cassidy and this other scumbag chose to rape you.” 

He cupped her face, turning her face toward him. “It wasn’t your fault.” His thumb stroked her cheek. She eventually turned her head into his chest as he rested his cheek on top of her head whispering _it wasn’t your fault_ over and over until she fell asleep.

“You can’t be in here. Visiting hours ended at nine,” interrupted a female voice. Logan glanced up, taking in the sight of a nurse in light green surgical scrubs at the door to Veronica’s room. Her face was pinched in disapproval.

“She can’t handle being alone. I found her hyperventilating in the bathroom,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper but equally biting. He tilted his head toward her, his facial expression daring her to talk loudly again.

“Hospital policy,” she remarked dryly, ignoring his clear warning about her volume.

Gently disentangling himself from Veronica, he stood up and crossed the room toward the nurse, standing ramrod straight. “You know, Nurse Ratched your bedside manner sucks. Try shooting for sensitivity next time.” He gestured with his hand. “I am not going anywhere,” he said, enunciating every word.

“I will call security.” She crossed her arms across her chest.

“What’s going on here?” Nurse Olivia walked into the room, an eyebrow raised appraisingly. 

“It’s past visiting hours and he is refusing to leave.”

“She asked me to stay. I don’t think she can handle being alone right now,” Logan said, his eyes pleading.

Oliva turned to the other nurse. “Nora, Mr. Echolls is Veronica’s fiancee. Given the circumstances, we can make an exception on the proviso.” She turned to Logan. “Only one family member is permitted to stay overnight.”

“Thank you.” He nodded gratefully. “She needs a new IV. She pulled it out earlier. I found her having a panic attack in the bathroom.”

She gave Logan a warm smile. “Not a problem. We’ll get that fixed.” Then she turned back to the older nurse. “Nora, why don’t you bring in one of the portable cots for Mr. Echolls.” Nora nodded her assent and left the room.

\---

Keith walked into Veronica’s room, breakfast in hand. She was sound asleep, as was Logan in the cot beside her bed. He crossed the room, put a brown paper bag and drink tray on the table at the foot of her bed. “Well, apparently someone bribed Nurse Ratched.”

Logan stirred, opening one eye. “Hardly.” His voice was husky with sleep. “She tried kicking me out.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “And yet somehow you not only conned your way into staying, you were also offered a bed for your trouble.”

Logan sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Eh.” He waved his hand down his body. “We can't all have skills with the ladies.”

“I’ll have you know, this old man—” Keith pointed to himself “—is still quite suave.”

“Well, I guess I’m dead,” Veronica croaked. Logan and Keith’s heads turned toward her. “Because usually this ends with a broken lamp and you kicking Logan out of the room.” She smirked. She turned her attention to her father. “Suave,” she rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you’re not reliving a bad ‘80s song?”

“Well good morning to you too, dear daughter of mine.” He walked to the other side of her bed and kissed her forehead.

“The charge nurse said one of us can stay overnight,” Logan explained. He threw Keith a meaningful look that said _I’ll explain later_. He turned to Veronica. “I’m going to get some breakfast. I’ll be back later. Want me to bring anything?”

She shrugged. “Something to entertain me.” She paused. “Ooh, cards to play poker.”

“So you can win all my money,” he said and grinned mischievously; he’d learned that lesson a long time ago.

“Well you know if you’re not feeling confident—” Keith grinned.

“Have you ever played poker with your daughter? She’ll take us both to the cleaners.”

“So you’re out then?”

“I never said that. We just won’t be playing for money.” 

“It takes a brave man to admit his shortcomings,” Veronica quipped, a genuine smile on her face. Logan thought it was nice to see. He gave her a mock salute and took his leave.

“I brought breakfast,” Keith said, rolling the table over the bed toward her. “I talked to one of the nurses, and they said it was fine as long as it was soft. There’s scrambled eggs with ham or porridge and orange juice.”

“Scrambled eggs. Thanks, Dad,” she said appreciatively. Her stomach was growling in hunger.

“How you doing this morning?” he asked as he took the food out of the bag.

“My ribs hurt, but I’m mostly okay.” She smiled, only this time it did not meet her eyes. She stopped all further inquiries by taking small, measured bites and thoroughly chewing each. Her throat protested a little, and she winced from time to time.

Keith knew she was minimizing things and was keeping him at arm's length. He couldn’t help but be irrationally irritated that she was so comfortable with Logan. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt there was a piece of the puzzle he was missing.

The shrill sound of a phone broke Keith from his thoughts. He felt for his cellphone and pulled it out. It wasn’t ringing. Then he realized it was Veronica’s phone, which the nurse had given him. 

He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen, “Sadie's calling you. Sadie from Stanford? I didn't know she was in town already," he mused as he passed the phone to her. 

“She got back a few days ago,” she murmured and then accepted the call with a quick flick of her thumb across the screen. “Hey, Sadie.” Her voice was tentative.

_Veronica, finally I have left you a dozen messages. I’ve been so worried_. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She bit her lip; she didn’t know how to tell her friend what had happened. She had yet to say the word _raped_ out loud. She turned to her father, her eyes begging him to take over the call.

He took the phone from her, “Hey, Sadie, it’s Keith Mars. Veronica’s in the hospital—” He stood and walked from the room, returning about five minutes later. He placed her phone on her bedside table. “She’s coming by to see you. Do you want me to tell Wallace and Mac?”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. Not yet.” She couldn’t bear them knowing, at least not right now.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, I was supposed to attend an interview this week with Truman-Mann and Associates. I can’t even think about it right now.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “Could you call them, tell them I had an accident or something?”

“Sure honey. I’ll take care of it.” He kissed her forehead. “You’re going to get through this, and when you’re ready, there will be more offers.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure if it was what she wanted anymore. She felt her whole life had been turned upside down. Things that seemed so clear a week ago no longer were. She shook her thoughts off and took a small sip of her orange juice. Putting the cup back down, she pushed the tray away from her and shifted her legs over the side of her bed. Her face scrunching as she winced from the pain shooting up her sides. Her father was immediately at her side.

“Honey?” He placed his hand on her back to steady her as she stood up.

She batted his arm away. “I’m fine,” she snapped. Then she took a steadying breath before saying, “I just need to go to the bathroom.” She wheeled her IV stand with her as she crossed the room, closing the door with a soft click behind her. 

She sat down on the toilet and relieved herself. She sucked in a breath as she stood and flushed, her ribs continuing to protest against any form of movement. She washed her hands thoroughly, anything to avoid having to talk about it with her father. She didn't dare glance up at her reflection in the mirror, having no desire to see the extent of her injuries.

She scrubbed her hands until they were red and raw. Her hands shook as she watched several of her mangled nails drip with blood. She ran her fingers under the water and watched the blood flow down her fingers and swirl down into the sink. 

She felt dirty, like her skin was crawling with _his_ DNA. She unsnapped her hospital gown and threw it to the floor, then taking the loose hospital underwear that was several sizes too big from her hips, down her legs and onto the floor. She stepped out of them and reached across to the shower and turned the water on. The room steamed up almost immediately. She barely turned the cold on.

Stepping into the scalding shower her hands washed gently at first, running down her arms, her neck and wincing as she washed around her thighs. Her movements became faster, more frantic. She reached for the clean wash cloth that was hanging from a rack at the back of the shower and scrubbed everywhere she could reach. The pain barely gave her pause.

It wasn’t enough. Her skin was bright red, but it wasn’t enough. She let out a strangled sob and lowered herself to the floor of the shower, continuing to scrub. She took in the bruises on her inner thigh area and the neat stitches that ran up her abdomen. She threw the washer onto the ground. The scrubbing might make her clean, but it didn’t wash away the memories.

A soft knock was heard. “Veronica?” She closed her eyes, trying to compose herself as she recognised the voice of her friend Sadie. “I’m coming in,” she warned, a second later the door opened and revealed a woman of medium height with long brown, wavy with blonde highlights and hazel eyes. She swiftly closed the door behind her. Her breathing hitched as she saw Veronica sitting on the floor of the shower and the steam rolling out of the cubicle. 

Sadie let the duffle bag slung over her shoulder drop to the ground and crossed the room, then turned the shower off. She reached for a towel from the rack and lowered herself to her knees, reaching out to her tentatively and then slowly wrapping the towel around her shoulders. She wiped a tear from her own face as she took in her friends injuries. She offered her her hands, which Veronica took, and she helped her to her feet. “I brought you some clothes.”

“Thanks,” Veronica murmured gratefully. 

Sadie helped her dress, mindful of her injuries and respectful of both her boundaries and her need to not be treated like she was made of glass. She helped her out of the bathroom, nodding to Keith, who was pacing the room, in an effort to reassure him. She helped Veronica into bed and pulled the blankets over her.

Keith gently squeezed Veronica’s hand. “I’m going to go call Truman-Mann.” He stroked her hair once more before taking his leave.

Sadie sat on the bed facing her, her eyes watering. “I should have gone out with you guys.”

Veronica shook her head. “It's not your fault,” she murmured and then deflected. “Besides, you hate my law school friends.”

“Yeah, now I remember why,” her voice was dry and full of contempt.

“They were drunk.” She shrugged “ _I_ was the one who chose to leave alone.”

“Yeah, well I _wouldn’t_ have let you leave alone.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Veronica conceded. “But if you _were_ there, it probably wouldn’t have stopped him—” Her voice broke, her implication clear: _he might have hurt you too._

She swallowed thickly. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?”

“Can you go retrieve all my ‘worldly possessions’—” she drew air quotes with her fingers “—from Lenfest before they throw them away or something?”

“Sure. But I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” She wiped a few stray tears from her face and then stared down at her hands. “I _know_ I need to talk about it. I know I _can’t_ run from it. But I just _can’t_ right now.”

Sadie took her hand. “It’s okay,” she reassured her. “I just meant that I am here if you do.” 

Veronica visibly relaxed and nodded. “So how was your interview—” She stopped mid-sentence as Logan casually walked into her room, head down as he stared at his phone distractedly.

“Sorry,” he apologized when he looked up and saw she had company. “I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s okay,” Veronica said, waving off his apology. “Logan, this is my best friend Sadie.” She then turned to her friend. “Sadie this is Logan. He’s one of my oldest friends.”

Logan held his hand out and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“We met at Stanford.” Veronica said, smirking and then jutting her head towards Sadie. “Don’t stand too close, she might shrink you.”

Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “Psychiatrist?”

“Hardly,” Sadie replied dryly. “I prefer to talk through people’s problems, rather than cover them up with drugs.” She placed a hand on her chest dramatically. “Wait. Do I sound bitter? Because I’m not bitter.” 

He frowned, not quite getting the inside joke.

“Both her parents are Psychiatrists,” Veronica explained, her eyes dancing with amusement.

“Ah, psychologist then.”

“Psychologist-in-training,” Sadie corrected him with good humor. 

“I’m taking your parents _loved_ that?”

She mock sighed. “It makes for some tense dinner conversations.”

“I’ll bet.” He grinned. “Well, Veronica, I see you're in good hands. Why don't I go find your dad and get some coffee or something?” He turned to Sadie. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too.” She turned back to Veronica casting her a mischievous look. “Sooo,” she drawled, preparing to grill her friend mercilessly. “He’s _that_ Logan.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s _that_ Logan.”

“So how did ‘that Logan’ find himself here?”

“They couldn’t get ahold of my dad, and Logan was listed as ICE in my phone.”

“Huh.” Sadie cocked her head to the side and regarded her friend, her interest obviously piqued.

Veronica played with the hem of her shirt, trying to avoid Sadie’s intense scrutiny. “It’s why Piz and I broke up.”

She snorted. “Because Piz is clairvoyant?” Sarcasm dripped from her tone.

“No. Do you remember when you drunk-dialled my phone a few months back?”

Sadie frowned as she tried to recall the incident, then she bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Vaguely.”

“Well, after he got off the phone with you, he got a little—” Veronica paused for a moment, searching for the right word. “Curious.”

“Curiosity? About you? More like a death wish.” She snickered.

“He found Logan listed as ICE.”

She frowned. “And he broke up with you over that?”

“Well first there’s the part where he didn’t understand why Logan was even in my phone to begin with.” She held up a second finger. “Second, after I explained ICE to him, he got turned inside out over my ex-boyfriend being named and not him.”

“Well,” Sadie said, pointing at herself, “and I will deny _ever_ having said this later, but he has a point.”

Veronica shrugged. “I never thought about it. Then he accused me of still having feelings for Logan, saying he was just a placeholder.”

“What did you say?”

Biting her lip, Veronica admitted the truth. “Nothing.” Sadie’s eyes widened. “He took me off guard. He took my silence as confirmation and then broke up with me.”

“And you still said nothing?”

“No.” She paused, playing with the hem of her top again. “I realized he was right. I did miss Logan more than I realized.”

“Only missed?” Sadie smirked wryly. “Well, if that’s your story—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she retorted.  
  


“Oh come on. I get it, he’s hot, built like a greek god, and he has a nice ass.” Veronica attempted to look mollified. Sadie rolled her eyes. “Like _you_ didn’t notice.”

\---

Logan sat and stared from his vantage point across the hall two floors above where Veronica’s room was located, his eyes practically burning a hole through the glass window. He was imagining all sorts of scenarios that involved him walking into the hospital room and beating the shit out of the lone male occupant lying unconscious and handcuffed to the bed. 

He imagined standing over him, holding his throat and asking him _how does it feel?_ ; sacking him in the balls; suffocating him with a pillow; punching him until he broke every last one of his ribs. He imagined all scenarios down to the last satisfying detail. There was only one thing stopping him, and it _wasn’t_ the burly police officer who stood guard at the door.

“I see we both had the same idea.” He glanced up to see Keith approaching, his expression unreadable. The older man lowered himself into the chair beside him. “What I would give to be able to walk into that room and fire a shot right into his balls,” Veronica’s father said, his voice full of vitriol. “How many ways have you thought of?”

“Too many.” His voice was quiet but dangerous. “But I can’t.” Keith’s gaze shifted from the window to Logan. “She didn’t survive all that for me— _or_ you—to fuck it all up because beating the shit out of the fucker makes us feel useful. She deserves justice, and that’s more important than rearranging his face.”

Keith looked floored for a moment before recovering, “Well, there’s always community soap,” he remarked darkly.

Shooting Keith a wry smirk, Logan added, “And a cellie named Bubba.”

\---

Veronica grinned as she pulled the remaining M&Ms toward her, bankrupting both men. Logan and Keith both threw their cards onto the table in frustration. She had won _nearly_ every hand. Sadie had left to collect Veronica’s belongings from her dorm at Lenfest.

Logan gestured at her pile of loot and gave Keith a hard stare. “See what I mean?”

“I still say she’s counting cards,” he groaned.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p.’ “You’re just easy to read.”

“And Logan’s not?”

She scrunched up her face. “I don’t think Logan’s _ever_ been good at poker. Nobody notices because he has money to burn.”

“Hey,” Logan said, pointing at her. “I resent that. I _always_ win when I play with others.”

“And by ‘others’ you mean Dick.” She tilted her head to the side and smirking. “It doesn’t take much to beat the intellectually impaired.”

“I say she’s cheating,” Logan mused. Keith nodded in silent agreement.

“Can you be _any_ more graceful in defeat,” she remarked sarcastically. “Such babies. Here—” She picked up two M&Ms, placing a green one in front of her father and a blue one in front of Logan. “Happy?”

“An M&M. You gave me a single M&M? Your generosity astounds me,” Logan remarked in a dramatic tone reminiscent of an eighteen-year-old Veronica. The nostalgia was lost on Keith.

“Well if you don’t want it—” She moved to take it away.

Snatching it before she could, Logan popped his into his mouth. “Oh I never said that.”

“Veronica is a happy and intelligent child,” Keith began, his tone wistful. Veronica frowned and Logan raised an eyebrow. “She shares and plays well with others.” Logan snorted in amusement. “At least that’s what Miss Peters wrote in her second grade report card.”

“Well, she wasn’t wrong was she? I shared _and_ I played well.”

A resounding knock was heard and a short brunette in light blue surgical scrubs swept into the room. “Sorry to interrupt. Miss Mars, we’re going to take you up to radiology in a moment for a CT. It’s routine. We just want to ensure everything is looking good post-op. But before we do head up, Detective Shannahan is here to see you.” She turned and motioned out the door, and the detective joined them.

“Hello, Veronica,” she greeted and nodded to Logan before turning to Keith and offering him a hand to shake. “You must be her father? I just wanted to update you. The man who was found at the scene with you has been identified as Cameron Tate. Does the name mean anything to you?”

“Should it?” She frowned.

“Possibly. Mr. Tate was in several of your classes,” she explained as she pulled a photo from the manila folder she was carrying and handed it to her. Veronica studied it carefully, trying to ascertain if she recognized him. It took a moment before she did.

“I’ve seen him,” she choked out. “He used to sit behind me. I don’t think I have ever spoken to him.”

“We tested your rape kit against his DNA, and it was a positive match. His DNA also matched samples collected from another four female rape victims from the last two weeks. He has been formally charged, and we are pushing for him to be held without bail.” Veronica instantly felt nauseated at the confirmation that this was him, _this_ was her rapist. She reached for the plastic container beside her bed and heaved the contents of her stomach into it.

\---

Veronica shut her eyes, letting herself be comforted as Logan rubbed soothing circles on her back. She’d been feeling nauseated since Detective Shannahan’s visit.

“Distract me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why the Navy?” 

“How did—”

“I hear things,” she deadpanned. “Could never fully picture it though.”

“You sure you want to hear this story? It kind of starts pretty dark.”

“Don’t they always?” She smiled wryly. “At least when it comes to you and I.”

“Veronica—” 

“You don’t have to tell me. But please let it be because _you_ don’t want to talk about it and not because you _think_ it will make things worse for me.” She stared him down, taking in the small changes in his face over the years, the way the curves and baby fat of their youth had given way to sculpted lines. “I can see how far you have come just by looking at you. So, I am genuinely interested to hear how it happened, even if it has a dark beginning.”

“You’ve been gone for nine years, so all this,” he said, waving a hand down his body, “Is the ‘after’ picture. The ‘before’—let’s just say it wasn’t so nice. I was hitting the bottle pretty hard and some other stuff too, bad stuff.” He laughed humorlessly. “You know how it is around Neptune. As long as you call it ‘partying,’ it’s all okay. But it was getting pretty out of control. Even Dick was worried, and that should tell you something.” 

Veronica sucked in a sharp breath. She could feel in the depths of her stomach he meant what he said that this story had a dark beginning.

He shook his head. “There’s stuff I barely remember. Like, once I wandered into a woman’s house, thinking it was Dick’s. She found me passed out on the sofa. I was lucky she didn’t call the cops. But the thing is, I didn’t even care. That was the worst of it.”

Something clenched around Veronica’s heart, a tightness that tore into her like claws. But she held her tongue.

“Everything just felt pointless and stupid. I remember being out on my surfboard one morning and sitting there for the longest time. I’d paddled out as far as I could, and the waves were amazing, but I couldn’t make myself stand up. I thought about just rolling off the board and letting myself drift. Seeing if I could drown without too much effort.” He looked up at the ceiling. “I guess it’s no big shocker. Just another Hollywood brat who couldn’t handle his shit.”

Veronica inhaled sharply. She’d been at Stanford by then—trying her best to forget everything she’d left behind her. Trying to forget Logan. While she’d been complaining about all-nighters and turgid academic prose, he’d been casually, calmly thinking about ending his own life.

Logan continued. “It went on like that for a couple of years, worse and worse and, Veronica, it would have killed me. Without a doubt, it would have killed me, if not for Dr. Galway. I don’t know if you remember him. He was a history professor at Hearst. He showed up at the hospital after my second OD. I’d already dropped out of Hearst by then, but I guess for some reason I had made an impression on him.”

Veronica subtly shook her head, a knowing expression on her face. Logan had never seen himself clearly, not the way she had. She saw in him potential he’d never believed he had, and it was partially what made her so angry when he made questionable decisions.

“Turns out, he used to be a flyboy himself. He was the one who told me I was made for this. He checked me into a detox and rehab program and made sure I stuck with it. Afterward, he helped me re-enroll at Hearst, then he made some calls to get me into OCS.”

Logan may not have been sitting beside her right now if it hadn’t been for Dr. Galway. That stark realization washed over her like a cold chill.

“After that, it was like things just snapped into focus for me. For the first time in my life I had something that seemed worth working for. Something with actual, you know, purpose.”

He laughed, embarrassed by his own earnestness.

“Sorry—lamest recruiting script ever. Take two: _I just wanted the badass flight suit and a chance to reduce architectural treasures of the ancient world to smoking rubble._ ”

“Now there’s the Logan I know,” Veronica said, bumping her shoulder into his.

“Look, you’ve known me for a long time,” Logan said, the urgency returning to his voice. “I’m living proof it’s possible to have total freedom—to be indulged and deferred to by everyone around you—yet feel utterly worthless. It's one of the things I've always envied about you, that you've always had this sense of where you stood in the world, and what you could do to make a difference. I never had that, and maybe that's part of why we fell apart. So for me it was like...a revelation. The Navy saved my life."

Veronica exhaled a shaky breath and wiped away the tears forming in her eyes. Logan’s expression softened. “Veronica I’m okay, now,” he promised.

“I know. It’s just that hearing that you wanted to die upsets me like nothing else could.” She looked up at him. “Here I was trying to forget everyone and everything I had left behind while you were—”

He shook his head. “I was in a messed up place back then. But what happened had been coming for awhile. You staying wouldn’t have changed that.” He paused for a moment. “You had your own stuff going on as well. The way I see it, you did what you had to do, just like me. I think we’re both better for it.” He nudged her shoulder. “Now enough of the maudlin, I think you owe me a story now. Tell we what you have been up to.” 

“There’s not much to say.” She shrugged. “I went to Stanford, got my bachelor’s degree in psychology and then went on to Columbia to study law.”

“So when did you meet Sadie?”

“My very first day. We were assigned to the same dorm room. It wasn’t instant friendship because you know me, super friendly,” she admitted ruefully.

“Easygoing Veronica Mars.” He chuckled.

“We were in this weird nonverbal period for the first couple of days. I couldn’t get any sense of her to decide whether I hated her or not. But she did give off an intense vibe. Which in hindsight is because she was raised by two shrinks. Sadie’s natural state is to observe. She does it unconsciously. It’s like watching someone analyzing you as they peel back your layers like an onion. I’m used to it now. But back then it was—”

“Kind of creepy?”

“Yeah. But then a few days later we both came back from a statistics class with this boring, monotoned professor, threw ourselves on the couch, just started talking.” She grinned. “Next thing you know, we were bonding over all the things we both hated.” She smiled nostalgically. “We shared the same dorm for four years, then we graduated. I moved on to Columbia, and she stayed at Stanford to do her dual masters and doctorate.”

Veronica became silent, remembering the day she moved to New York. When she’d become friends with Sadie, she’d started to feel at home in Palo Alto. And when she moved, it had been like leaving Neptune behind again.

“We kept in touch. I talked to her as frequently as I talk to Wallace and Mac. But I saw her more often than them. Sadie was born in New York, so she came back during breaks to see her parents.”

“So why psychology?”

She shrugged. “Because it goes well with law.”

“Then why law? I always figured you’d end up becoming a detective or join the FBI,” he mused.

Her expression became blank. “A week ago I would have told you that I wanted to become a lawyer because I wanted a stable, dependable and normal life. The direct opposite to who I was in Neptune. And I would have believed every single word.”

“And now?”

“I’m not even sure if it’s what I want anymore.” She ran a hand through her hair. “When I left Neptune, everything was so messed up. When that sex tape came out, it was like it was happening all over again.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. 

“I felt violated, and then I became vengeful, and you know me, somebody _always_ has to pay,” she said bitterly. “In my pursuit of finding out who was responsible, I cost my father the election and almost his freedom, and I put my best friend in a dangerous situation.” 

She played with the hem of her shirt for a moment before continuing. “I felt so guilty and for the first time ever, I questioned myself and whether being a PI was worth it or if the price was too high. So I left, and I’ve spent the last nine years becoming the Veronica that everyone wants me to be.”

“And is it what you want to be?” He regarded her seriously, his expression intense.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, her expression pensive.

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by two knocks to the door. Dr. Feldman and Dr. Hastings walked into the room. Dr. Hastings held a hand up to Dr. Feldman and stepped forward. “Good afternoon,” she greeted, nodding to them both. “How are we this afternoon, Veronica?”

“Fine.”

“We’ve reviewed your CT scans, and there’s no residual bleeding in your abdomen and no bleeds have been found in your brain. In light of these positive results we’re going to discharge you tomorrow morning.” She gave Veronica a warm smile.

“So soon?” Logan frowned.

“Her vitals are stable. There’s no reason why she can’t recover from home, providing she rests and doesn’t exert herself,” she explained and then turned her attention solely to Veronica. “Your physical injuries will heal over the next few weeks. But the emotional and psychological ones—well there’s no hard and fast rule, but it could take some time. I hope that you’ll consider speaking to a professional to help you navigate this period. I can recommend some names if you like?”

Veronica nodded, but offered no response.

Dr. Hastings handed Veronica her card. “Feel free to call any time.” 

Veronica took it with a tentative smile. Both doctors nodded and left the room. The moment they were out of sight, she tossed the card to the bedside table as if it burned her. She knew she needed to talk about it, but emotionally she was not at a place where she could talk about it, let alone to a stranger. She winced as she lay down. She half expected Logan to say something about her reluctance to talk about it. But he didn’t. Instead, he took her hand and squeezed it.

She wasn’t ready right now, and it was if Logan instinctively knew that.

She shut her eyes, longing for the oblivion sleep could provide. Sleep came, but oblivion did not. Instead she watched as Cassidy loomed over her, recognizing the bed in Shelley Pomroy’s guest house. Tiny droplets of sweat formed on his brow, grunting as he thrust into her. He smiled almost maniacally, proud just like he’d been on the roof of the Neptune Grand. 

She couldn’t feel anything. She couldn’t even move. His face twisted, and he morphed into Duncan, who was also on top of her like Cassidy had been, rocking into her, telling her how much he loved her. She still couldn’t move or feel anything. But she could see it and she could imagine the pain she was likely in.

The nightmare shifted to black and then refocused. She felt a chill down her spine as she realized she was lying on the ground in the alley again. She tried to move, but her hands were pinned to the ground by Cassidy and Duncan. 

_No need to play hard to get_. 

She locked eyes with Tate, who smirked as he hovered over her. _You already have me excited_. 

She felt the searing pain as he thrust into her over and over, as he squeezed her throat. She couldn’t breathe. 

_You’re all so pretty like this_. She heard herself scream. _Doesn’t she?_ he asked both Cassidy and Duncan. 

_So pretty_ they said in unison. 

She continued to scream. 

_Veronica?_ She heard a voice echo. _Veronica?_ This time it was stronger.

“Veronica?” 

She opened her eyes, her breath coming in short shallow pants. She was bathed in her own sweat. Her eyes darted as she regained her bearings. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Her gaze shifted to Logan, who had his hands up tentatively, not wanting to startle her. “Is this okay?” he asked, his hand clasped into hers. She tugged him forward, and he immediately sat beside her and took her into his arms, rocking her gently as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  
Veronica curled into his chest. “They were all there,” she managed between sobs. “Cassidy, Tate and... _Duncan_.”


	5. It Was Never Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE
> 
> If this is not for you, you can stop reading at the following part:
> 
> **"She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even scream."**
> 
> and recommence reading at:
> 
> **“You’re okay sweetheart,” the voice of her father murmured soothingly to her.**
> 
> If you decide to read on, please be mindful to practice self-care. Go for a walk, listen to music, hang with a friend, do something that brings you joy, it can be anything. Self-care is so important. if you are feeling triggered or suicidal, talk to someone. Whether that be a friend, family member, online or calling a crisis and/or suicide prevention hotline. In Australia I would recommended Lifeline: 13 11 14 and [RAINN](https://www.rainn.org/) is also a great resource.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an acknowledgement that a part of this chapter is borrowed, albeit modified, from the movie (you will know it when you see it) all credit goes _wholly_ to the writers, because lets face it, Rob Thomas has been carried by the writers he works with...and he's such a douche I hate crediting him for anything these days!

Keith almost dropped the takeout tray with coffee to the floor as he took in the sight of his daughter burrowed into Logan’s arms as she struggled to draw breath. Each sob was like a white hot arrow into his heart. 

He had seen his fair share of pain and suffering of the victims of crime, both as a sheriff and even as a private investigator. He took comfort in the methodical nature of working a case and giving people closure in the form of answers or justice. There was a certain feeling of control when you worked a case, even when it was pandemonium around you. Right now, he had never felt so helpless.

The things he had seen in his lifetime had affected him, but they’d never broken him. Being on the other side of things, as a father, was different. He found himself remembering how things were simpler when she was little. If she scraped her knee, he’d put a bandage on it and kiss it better; when she refused to sleep because she was terrified of monsters, he’d check her closet and under her bed every night; and if she had a nightmare, he’d pick her up and put her in bed between Lianne and himself. He’d been her hero because he could solve all her problems. 

This was one thing he couldn’t fix. He couldn’t just hold her and make it all disappear. This was the hardest part of being a father and also what was keeping him rooted to the spot in the doorway: the feeling of being absolutely helpless to do anything at all.

“You’re safe,” he heard Logan murmur. He tentatively crossed the room, pausing midway. She trusted Logan so wholeheartedly, he felt like he was intruding on a private moment.

“I don’t understand _why_ he was there.” Her voice was filled with confusion. He watched as Logan bit his lip, clearly considering whether he should say what was on his mind.

Logan sighed. “I think only you know the answer to that.” Keith didn’t know what Veronica was talking about, but he instinctively knew it was something she wouldn’t want him privy to until she chose to tell him herself. 

He knew there was no way he was leaving without being seen, so he deposited the takeout tray onto the table at the end of the bed, interrupting the conversation before it could happen. He watched as she hastily pulled away from Logan.

“Honey, is everything okay?” he asked, walking to the other side of the bed and then sitting down facing her. His face only wore the expression of a concerned father and betrayed nothing about him having overhead some of her conversation with Logan.

She brushed her tears away and made a poor attempt at a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. I just had a bad dream. I don’t want to talk about it. Is that juice?” 

He knew she was deflecting, but he decided to let it go once more. “‘Hell of a Nerve.’” He reached behind him, grabbed the juice and handed it to her with a flourish. “From Joe & the Juice.”

“You know me so well,” she said with exaggerated glee.

“Well, you are the fruit of my loins.” He grinned and then reached behind him and handed Logan a coffee before taking one for himself. 

“And we have the paternity test to prove it,” she said, bumping fists with him. Logan looked mystified as he stared between father and daughter with a confused frown. “Huh.” She wore a pondering look on her face. “Guess I never told you that story. Well, back in the day, there was some question as to whether I was or _was not_ Jake Kane’s illegitimate daughter because my mommy is an adulterous whore.”

“Veronica!” Keith admonished.

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “As if _you_ haven’t thought it at least once or twice.”

“She’s still your mother,” he scolded her.

“Mother?” Scrunching her eyebrows together. “What is this word you speak of?” Keith opened his mouth prepared to scold her further, but the sound of knocking brought the conversation to a halt. A young red-headed nurse walked into the room with medical supplies in her arms. 

“Good afternoon,” she greeted everyone, then turned her gaze directly to Veronica. “Ms. Mars, I’m going to need your father and fiance to step out for a moment so I can check your incision site and change your dressings.” Keith and Veronica stared at Logan as he rubbed a hand to the back of his head sheepishly.

“Fiance?” Veronica raised a questioning eyebrow. “Apparently I hit my head hard. Did I forget you are a cheapskate too?” She held up her left hand. “Where’s my engagement ring with a diamond the size of a golf ball Echolls?” 

“They asked if I was family, so they wouldn’t have let me in otherwise,” he said, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “Besides, I’m smart enough to know _I’d_ be sans balls if I bought you a ring that size.”

“You do know my daughter well.” Keith motioned for Logan to follow him out of the room, leaving a bemused Veronica and a bewildered nurse behind.

He closed the door behind them and regarded Logan seriously. All traces of humor gone. “She won’t talk to me like she does with you. I know I am missing something here and whatever that _something_ is, you know about it.” 

Logan froze, looking particularly uncomfortable.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what that is. But my daughter practically barricaded herself in the bathroom today, took a scalding hot shower, and scrubbed herself raw while she cried.” He watched as Logan took in that information and how it visibly affected him in the way his shoulders slumped forward and his face contorted as he tried to control his emotions.

Logan lowered himself into a chair and placed his head in his hands. He sat down beside him. He then sat back looking torn due to his loyalty to Veronica. “Last night I found her having a panic attack in the bathroom. That’s why I stayed. She didn’t want to be alone.” There was a pregnant pause. “She scared me before. The nightmare. She looked like she was in pain, thrashing and screaming. It took me a while to wake her up.”

“She’s not coping.”

“No she’s not.” Logan took a long draw from his coffee. “You know they are discharging her tomorrow morning?” 

Keith frowned at the news. “What? So soon?”

“Yeah,” he stood throwing his coffee in the trash. “They said she’s on track.” He leaned against the nurses station counter directly across from Keith. “Mr. Mars—”

He waved this off. “Logan, I think at this point, you can call me Keith.”

“And I still remember you are licensed to carry a gun,” the younger man said wryly.

“Good man,” he deadpanned. “Regardless, you’re not seventeen and smashing my favorite lamp. It’s Keith.”

“Keith,” he conceded, albeit awkwardly. His expression turned serious.“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready. She knows she can’t run from it this time.”

“This time?”

Logan threw him a meaningful look. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

Keith took the hint and backed off immediately. He felt a deep sense of foreboding wash over him and got the feeling that whatever it is she was going to tell him would hurt them both.

“I’m all done. You can go back in now.” They both turned as she spoke, recognizing the nurse from moments before. Keith nodded to her and offered a warm smile in return as they both headed back into Veronica’s room.

As he turned into the room, he saw Veronica was sitting in a chair beside her bed, staring pensively out the window.

“All good, honey?” The sound of Keith’s voice made her visibly jump. Keith crossed the room, cursing himself inwardly for taking her off guard. He attempted to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she waved him off before he could.

“I’m fine. You just startled me.”

He took a seat on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry, I really should know better than to...well, I mean—”

“It’s fine. You can say it.” She continued to stare out the window, her voice sounding faraway.

There was an awkward pause as he struggled to find a way to respond. “I’m going to stay the night with you,” he said, changing the subject.

Veronica turned her head towards him. “I’ll be fine. I’m okay.” Her attempts to reassure him were feeble; she looked like she could barely reassure herself of her own wellbeing. “The mattress...uh—it wouldn’t be good on your back.”

“You really think that matters to me?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m staying.” 

Veronica looked ready to protest further.

“Sounds like a plan,” Logan interjected, throwing a knowing look in Keith’s direction. “I think I’ll head to my hotel room now, it’s getting late.” Keith cast Logan a subtle but grateful smile. Logan put a hand on her shoulder and stroked it with his thumb a few times. He turned to leave, but she reached out and clasped his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait. Why don’t you have dinner with us first.”

Logan smirked. “Are you offering to share your crappy hospital food with us?” He gave her a look of mock disgust. “Generous. But I think I’ll pass.”

“By dinner I meant the kind either you,” she pushed a finger into his chest and then turned to her father, “or Dad are going to go out and buy me. As for sharing, I _might_ be persuaded.”

“I would love to impress you with my finely honed skills of persuasion.” He smirked and Veronica snorted. “But I really do need to get back. I have a few calls to make, and I need to check in with Dick.”

“What, he _still_ can’t be left unsupervised?” She raised a bemused eyebrow.

“Well it _is_ Dick. I still from time to time have to remind him that the stove is hot.”

Keith frowned. “In case he burns his hands off?”

“Or sets the house on fire,” Logan deadpanned.

“That sounds like a Dick problem,” she snickered.

“It’s also a _me_ problem because I stay with him when I am not deployed.”

“Right. Well, see you tomorrow then?” It was painful for Keith to hear the uncertainty in her tone. As did the knowledge that his beautiful, intelligent, brave and confident daughter not only seemed so bereft but appeared to believe that she could blink and they would just disappear.

“I’ll be here, with breakfast, coffee and juice,” he assured her.

\---

Logan stood in the hallway outside Veronica’s room, lost in thought. His exit was purely for the sake of Keith in the hope she might finally talk to him. He believed that in time she _should_ tell her father everything, no matter how excruciating it would be for Keith to hear.

In some ways, he struggled to understand why she never told her father. They had always had a close relationship, and it was one of the things he’d been envious of because he’d never had that growing up. In other ways, he understood it; she likely wanted to shield him from her pain. 

It was taking a toll on him watching the collision of such visceral pain for her, both past and present. All he wanted was to do something, _anything_ to take that pain away. But he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. He turned and found Nurse Olivia filling out paperwork at the nearby nurses’ station. 

That was when it hit him. He might not be able to change anything, but he could give her something to hold onto by reminding her what she believed in: _justice_. Olivia was likely the only staff member who would be prepared to bend a few rules to help him. He sidled up alongside her.

“Any chance you could do me a favor and help me with something?”

She glanced up from her paperwork. “Logan,” she greeted him, placing her pen down. “Maybe, depends on the favor.”

“What happened to those four other women?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Sounds like the kind of favor I can’t help you with. Patient confidentiality and all.”

“Says the nurse who knew I was lying about being Veronica’s fiance and didn’t kick me out.” He raised an eyebrow with a bemused grin.

“Okay, you have a point. Why do you need to know?”

“For Veronica’s sake. She’s not coping, and I can’t take that pain away, but I hope that I can give her something to hold onto.” He was trying to be stoic as he pleaded for her to understand. Oliva’s expression softened in empathy.

“You still love her, don’t you?”

“I don’t think I have _ever_ stopped loving her.” His voice was thick, and he turned away for a moment so she wouldn’t see the tears beginning to fall from his face. He abruptly turned back. “Wait, I never told you she was my ex-girlfriend. How did you know?”

“I see a lot of people day in and day out. People shattered, relieved, happy, angry and not always at the doctors.” She picked up her paperwork and tossed it into an in tray. “You get good at reading people. I knew from the very first night you arrived from the way you looked at her. The only part I cannot work out is why you think this would help her.”

“She’s the daughter of an ex-cop, so she grew up believing in the system. When a crime is committed there is a consequence. Balancing of the scales. Justice.” 

_She also enjoyed being the one to dispense that justice,_ he thought, but he didn’t think this would help his case with Olivia. 

“If she hadn’t fought back, she and all those women may not have had a hope for justice. Maybe if she sees it rather than just hears about it, it might give her something to move forward with or at least give her some comfort.” 

Olivia bit her lip, appearing to contemplate if she _should_ risk stretching the rules this far. 

“Follow me,” she eventually said. She took him up in the elevator to the floor above them and into the Neurosurgical Intensive Care Unit. She brought them to a stop at the nurses station.

Pointing towards Bed 1 and Bed 3, she said, “These two women are in medically induced comas to reduce the swelling in their brains. The doctors are hopeful they will recover.” She then pointed to Bed 4. “She is in a coma as well, but not medically induced. She had an aneurysm in her brain that had gone undetected. When Tate hit her—”

“It burst,” he surmised.

She nodded. “Yes. Her parents are making the difficult decision as to whether to take their daughter off life support and donate her organs.”

“Would she have lived if she didn’t have the aneurysm?”

“Possibly. But all blunt force traumas are different. She could have still ended up right here.” She pointed to Bed 6. “She woke up this morning.” He focused on the blonde lying in the bed, with her family gathered around her. 

That was when he noticed it. It was like he was doused with icy water. She was blonde, and she looked so similar to Veronica. He turned and regarded each of the women in their respective beds. The same blonde hair and similar appearance.

“You noticed it too?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed thickly. “Detective Shannahan said that Tate was in most of her classes at Columbia. He sat behind her.” He was speaking more to himself. “Oh my god. It was about her. He wanted _her_.”

“I’m no detective, but I get the feeling he was likely fixated on her for some time. Like you said, she’s the daughter of an ex-cop, and she’s no easy target. So he may have been sublimating his urges with these women.” She turned to face him. “I would also hedge a guess that the night he raped her wasn’t planned.” She put a hand on his back and began guiding him away and back towards the elevator.

“She would blame herself. I _know_ her,” he said as they both stepped back onto the elevator. “She’d figure it out quicker than I did, and she’d blame herself for them having to suffer because he couldn’t have her first.”

“I admire what you are trying to do. You’re just looking for it in all the wrong places—”

“What do you mean?” 

The elevator chimed and they both stepped off and headed back towards the nurses station.

She paused then turned to face him. “Have you ever thought that the _thing_ she might need to hold onto is you?”

He shook his head. “It’s been nine years. It can’t be that simple.”

“Maybe it is.”

\---

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even scream. They all held her down. Cassidy held down her shoulders. Duncan had his hand clamped over her mouth. Tate held the rest of her body down as he thrust into her and squeezed her throat, cutting off her air supply.

All she could do was close her eyes and beg for oblivion. She could hear Cassidy let out a cold laugh. _You were all over everyone. You were all but begging for it_. When she opened them again Tate and Duncan had switched places. He buried his head into her neck, whispering, _It’s okay, I love you_. She bit Tate’s hand. He howled in pain and let go.

“It’s not okay,” she screamed. “It was _never_ okay!”

She felt her body being shook and whispers of unintelligible words in her ear.

“It was never okay,” she moaned. The images of Tate, Cassidy and Duncan blurred before her eyes until she saw nothing, 

“You’re okay sweetheart,” the voice of her father murmured soothingly to her. She sat up immediately. Her body was drenched with sweat as she struggled to draw breath. She burrowed into her father’s arms as she cried.

“I’ll never be okay,” she choked out.

“Honey, don’t say that, it just takes time.”

“I don’t think I have _ever_ been okay. Not since the first time.” Her voice broke as spoke the truth she had desperately buried all these years.

“What do you mean not since the first time?”

Veronica began to panic as she realised what she had said out loud and hurriedly tried to cover up what she had let slip. “I, uh, well, it’s not the first time I have had a nightmare since Tate. I’m okay. I’ll be okay,” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, her father or herself.

Keith didn’t respond. He just held her and rubbed soothing circles on her back. It felt like hours before he finally spoke.

“Look, I know you are minimizing things, and I know there is something you aren’t telling me.” Veronica swallowed thickly. “Something Logan knows about.” She felt claustrophobic, like she was about to be backed into a corner she wasn’t prepared to talk her way out of.

“Dad I—”

  
He turned her to face him. “I’m not going to force you to talk to me before you’re ready, but, Veronica, I want you to know that you are my little girl, and I love you. There is _nothing_ you could ever tell me that could possibly change that.” She felt relief wash over her as she realized he wasn’t going to push her to tell him. At least for now. She burrowed herself further into her father’s arms.

“I love you too, Dad.”

\---

Veronica zipped her bag closed forcefully for the upteenth time. She was becoming irritated. She had been waiting hours to be discharged, and she was _more_ than ready to be out of the hospital. 

“Pretty sure that bag is not going to close any better than last ten times,” Logan quipped. Veronica shot him a glare. “Okay, not in a good mood.”

“Oh, well spotted, Captain Obvious,” she snapped. A moment later her shoulders slumped. She turned back to Logan. “I’m sorry. I’m tired and _really_ sick of waiting.”

“Oh, you are? We hadn’t noticed,” Keith joked dryly. After a few more moments, Dr. Hastings and Nurse Olivia finally entered the room.

“Good morning, everyone.” Dr. Hastings greeted warmly. “Veronica, I can see you are ready to go so I will try to be brief.” _No shit,_ she thought. “Some care instructions. Take it easy, don’t overexert yourself. With that said, you are not on bedrest either. I would encourage you to take a light walk between 30 to 90 minutes per day.” 

Veronica accepted some bandages and dressings from Nurse Olivia. 

“You will need to keep your incision site clean to avoid infection, so change your dressings regularly,” the doctor continued. She then took out a pad and scribbled on it, ripped out the page, and handed it to her. “That is a prescription for pain medication. Take it as directed.” She gave Veronica a knowing look. 

“If you start experiencing nausea, dizziness, double vision, abdominal pain or anything else out of the ordinary come straight back to the hospital. We’ll then see you in two weeks for a check-up and to remove your stitches. Finally—” She handed her a piece of paper with names and phone numbers on them. “For when you are ready,” she murmured softly. “Any questions?”

“No, thank you, Doctor,” she replied gratefully.

“Well then, take care, Veronica. I will leave you with Olivia to sign your discharge paperwork.” She then held her hand out to her father. “Mr Mars.” She nodded and then did the same with Logan. “Logan.” She then left the room.

“I’ll get you to sign at the bottom,” Olivia said as she handed her a clipboard and pen. Veronica signed with a quick flourish and handed it back. Olivia tucked the clipboard under her arm and then turned and grabbed hold of the wheelchair behind her.

Veronica raised any eyebrow. “Is that really necessary? I can walk.”

“Hospital policy, I am afraid. I’m sure Logan would be happy to be your cruise director.” Her tone was good-humored, she’d _clearly_ heard that protest numerous times. 

Logan crossed the room to Veronica’s side and helped her into the wheelchair. She winced as she sat down, then resumed her scowl once she was settled.

Logan lowered his lips to her ear. “Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

Veronica glanced over her shoulder and subtly tilted her head toward her father. “Careful, Daddy’s licensed to carry.”

“So am I,” he murmured and gave her a playful smirk.

“Your funeral.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Would you two kids quit the chitter chatter? Let’s get this show on the road.” Her father was shaking his head as he watched their subdued exchange. Veronica cleared her throat while Logan grinned like the cat that got the cream.

Veronica spent the cab ride home to Sadie’s staring out the window. Her nightmare continued to haunt her. _It’s okay, I love you_. She heard Duncan’s voice ring in her ears as if he were right next to her. She wrapped her hands around her torso as if she were cold. She found herself questioning, was it rape? They had both been drugged after all. Didn’t that mean in technical terms they’d raped each other? Or had Duncan lied about her being conscious in an effort to save his own skin? It wouldn’t be the first time—he was a Kane, after all.

The cab came to a stop outside an apartment building in Greenwich Village. Logan swiftly paid the driver before her father could even blink. Logan got out of the front seat and opened Veronica’s door, helping her out.

Sadie was already waiting for them on the front step. She moved forward to meet Veronica halfway and enveloped her in a hug. “You look exhausted.”

She shrugged. “Didn’t sleep well.” 

“Well, there’s an expensive posturepedic bed with your name on it.” She turned and gestured for everyone to follow. She brought them up to the fourth floor and into a two storey apartment that was a mix of modern and old-fashioned charm. “So I was thinking. Logan, you could stay here with Veronica while she settles in, while Mr. Mars and I go get lunch from the deli down the street.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he agreed.

Sadie turned to Logan. “Why don’t you check out of your hotel and stay here, there’s four bedrooms.”

“Four bedrooms?” Veronica remarked in surprise.

“Yeah, tell me about it. I don’t think mine and my parents perception of what constitutes a ‘small’ apartment are the same,” she remarked sarcastically.

Veronica looked over at Logan. “Stay,” she insisted.

“Okay. I’ll go back after dinner to get my things and check out.”

“Well, since that’s settled. Any special requests for lunch?” She asked as she picked up her wallet and keys from the counter. They both shook their heads. “All right then. Vee, your room is upstairs and straight down the hall.” Sadie and Veronica’s father then both left.

Veronica made her way over to the stairs and slowly climbed them, taking each step at a time and being careful not to overextend her injuries. Logan followed her with her bag. When they reached the top, she shuffled towards her room and opened the door. The room was beautiful with slanted windows from the ceiling and a reddish brick wall behind her bed. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

“So,” she drawled. “I have been meaning to ask you something.”

“What’s that?”

“Two words,” she held up her fingers. “Carrie. Bishop.”

“Veronica Mars. Reading the tabloids. New York has changed you,” he teased.

“I do not read the tabloids,” she rebuffed. “It’s New York, there’s a news stand on practically every block. The tabloids are in your face whether you like it or not.”

“Well, there is no Carrie anymore. We broke up, or more accurately, I broke up with her,” he explained as he crossed the room and sat beside her.

“What happened?”

“She cheated on me with Sean Friedrich.”

Veronica scrunched her nose up in disgust. “Yuck.” Her expression then softened. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s funny. We had a good first year. A year of being in love, and then her shitty friends, her self loathing kind of destroyed that. You think I have demons? She was—” He trailed off, a dark expression on his face. 

He appeared to be lost in a dark memory. She stayed silent and waited until he was ready to continue.

“This last year was bad. I wasn’t a boyfriend. Not really. I was something closer to a sponsor.” He looked down at his hands, chuckling darkly. “That’s a funny thought isn’t it? Me as a stabilizing influence.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think it is.” He threw her an _almost_ shy smile.

He adjusted his position on the bed to face her, “What about you?”

“Well, I was seeing Piz up until a little over a month ago.” She shrugged.

Logan took a moment to respond. “Must have been rough when it ended.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Um, gee, I don’t know, Veronica. Because you were together for nine years?”

Veronica bit back a laugh. ”Hardly, we broke up not too long after you punched Sorokin’s face in at Hearst. Almost a year ago, Wallace told me Piz had moved to the city. We met up for drinks, and it went from there.”

“Why did it end?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was because of you?” She gave him a sheepish look. Logan stared at her in confusion. “He found you as ICE in my phone and flipped.” She decided not to elaborate further.

“Huh,” Logan responded and then a devilous gleam danced his eyes. “Ever the drama queen. You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“Like you can talk. Carrie Bishop.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fair point, Mars.”

The sound of knocking echoed through the apartment. Veronica frowned because she had seen Sadie take her keys with her. The knocking continued. She went to stand but he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Take it easy, I’ll go get the door.”

Veronica tentatively stood and followed Logan at a slower pace and took the steps one by one. She was still making her way down the stairs as Logan opened the front door.

“Speaking of,” Logan muttered and let the door fall open revealing the person on the other side. Veronica frowned as she took the last few steps. She felt a surge of irritation rush through her as she made her way to the front door.

“What are you doing here Piz?”


	6. Truth and Blindspots

“I heard.” His face was full of sympathy as he stepped toward her. Veronica gave him a scorching look as she took a step back, keeping a safe buffer between them. She made sure to keep the door from swinging wide so he wouldn’t take it as an invitation to enter. 

She glanced at Logan and tilted her head to the side as she let a small sigh escape. He nodded and backed out of the room to give them privacy to talk.

She turned back to Piz, her eyes narrowed. “You heard what, exactly?” Her voice was devoid of warmth. He looked taken aback by her reaction. He opened his mouth a few times attempting to respond. She crossed her arms across her chest. “Well?”

Veronica’s scrutinizing gaze made Piz fidget uncomfortably. “I—uh.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I heard from Ainsley about what happened to you.” Veronica stepped to the side and gestured for him to come inside, not wanting to have whatever conversation this was in the entryway where everyone could hear.

“How would Ainsley know anything?” She shut the door behind him. “I have _barely_ spoken to anyone save my father, Logan and Sadie.”

“Veronica...it was someone at Lenfest that found you. Someone told Ainsley.”

She scoffed, “And her first instinct was to tell my ex?!”

“She was just concerned.” Piz took a few steps toward her. “ _I’m_ concerned,” he said softly as he took her hand. Veronica recoiled and snatched her hand away.

“Why would you be?” She rolled her eyes and subtly took a half step back. “ _You_ broke up with _me_ , remember?”

“Doesn't mean I don't still care. I do.” He attempted to close the distance between them once more. Veronica put a hand up in front of her, stopping Piz in his place.

“Well, good for you. Want a gold star for being a nice guy?” she snapped, turning away from him and resting her hands on the kitchen counter. “Wait...how did you even know I was here?” Her voice was deathly calm. “How?” She abruptly turned around, her tone remained calm but direct. “I know both Sadie and my father wouldn’t have told you.” Piz looked down at his feet and wrung his hands. She strode forward, standing inches from him. “Answer me.”

Piz took a tentative step back before finally answering. “Ainsley told me you were moving in with Sadie. She gave me the address.”

“Wow,” she said, glowering. “Sadie’s right. I really _do_ have shitty friends.” There was an uncomfortable silence between them as Veronica let this information sink in. When she finally looked up at Piz once more, her expression was filled with anguish and her eyes watered. “Knowing all this, you thought _not only_ that it was a good idea to show up here, you thought that I would want to see _you_?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” His expression of sympathy didn’t comfort her, only spurred her anger.

“I was brutally beaten and raped. I’ve had surgery. Curiosity satisfied?” 

“Why are you being so hostile?” He put his hands up in the air in frustration.

“I’m hostile?!” she snapped incredulously, before staring up at the ceiling. “God, Veronica, what is it with your pathological need to date the Duncan Kanes of the world!”

“Excuse me?”

“You,” Veronica pointed at his chest. “You are the stereotype for ‘nice guy,’ just like Duncan Kane, my first boyfriend. You and every other guy I have dated since leaving Neptune.”

“I’m confused.” He frowned and then gestured toward himself. “I _am_ a nice guy.”

“No, you are a guy who pretends to be a ‘nice guy’ on the outside, while underneath it all you’re just a selfish jackass.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “And let me guess. Logan Echolls—” he gestured toward the other room “—is your shining example of a nice guy. The same psycho Logan Echolls who throws punches and asks questions later.”

“‘Nice guys’—” she airquoted “—are just narcissists who hide it well. Nice Guy Syndrome is a thing. Google it. So no, he’s not a nice guy, but he is a _good_ guy, and you wanna know why?” 

Veronica stepped toward him until she was inches from him once more. 

“Because he might be a spoiled brat who thinks he can throw his money around, and yes, he can be a dick to people he doesn't care about, but he never pretends to be anything else. He doesn't even lie to himself about it. He is _exactly_ who he is.” Her eyes were like steel and burned with fire. “When he decides he cares about you, that’s it, he’s all in. When he loves you, He loves _all_ of you.” 

Veronica shot an accusatory stare toward him.

“Not what you used to be or what he can change you into. He loves _you_. He’s also loyal, even when you piss him off, even when you break his heart. He shows up, even when you don’t deserve it. He shows up.”

“Unbelievable.” He chuckled dryly. “So, I was right. There _was_ something going on between you two.” 

“No, up until now I hadn’t seen or spoken to Logan for nine years. You were wrong about that part.” Veronica took a breath before continuing. “But you were right about everything else. He still matters to me.” 

She watched as the little resolve Piz clung to, drain from his face as it contorted into anger.

“It was never going to work between us.” His expression was dark and accusatory as he stalked toward her. “Because all _I_ or any other guy has ever been to you is a placeholder for _him_.” 

Veronica stepped back until her back hit the counter. He was barely inches from her. She felt the blood pumping in her ears. 

“You call me an asshole, a narcissist, that I loved who I could change you into,” Piz said, his tone scathing. He took that last step forward and was all but pressed against her. She couldn’t breathe. “But what about you? Let’s be honest Veronica, you couldn’t make it work with him either because you’re self-destructive and there’s no fixing you.”

“Back the fuck off, Piz!” Veronica felt relief as Logan put himself in between them and pushed Piz away. He then backed Piz up against the adjacent wall. “You don’t—”

“Talk to my daughter like that.” Keith came barreling through the front door, inserted himself between them, and grabbed Piz by the collar of his shirt. While Sadie, coming in behind him with an armload of takeout, set the food down on the counter and stood firmly beside Veronica. “You don’t _ever_ talk to my daughter like that.” Keith’s tone was dangerous, but eerily even. He pulled Piz away from the wall and then pushed him toward the door. “You’re leaving, Stosh, and you’re _never_ coming back.”

Veronica furiously wiped the tears that had escaped her eyes as she watched her father push Piz out the door. She crossed the room after them as fast as her injuries would allow. Her anger was palpable as she pushed past her father.

“You didn’t come here for me,” she called after Piz’s retreating form. Piz halted, but he didn’t turn around to face her. “You came here for _you_.”

Keith put his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, come back—” 

Veronica shook him off. “No!” She warned him before turning her attention back onto Piz. “You came here to fulfil this need you have to be the ‘nice guy,’ and because you’re nice to me you expect me to be grateful. Even though the very _thought_ of most men—” Veronica gasped, her pain visceral “—being close to me or touching me is _unbearable_. But _I’m_ supposed to be grateful!” 

Piz half-turned toward her, his eyes shooting her a sidewards glance as if she’d finally gotten through and the truth of her words eviscerated him. 

“My feelings are not responsive to your whims nor do you get to _use_ me to feel better about yourself.” Piz turned fully to face her once more, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to find a rebuttal. Veronica shook her head. “Like I said, ‘nice guys’ aren’t real.” She took one last look at Piz and then shut the door on him for good.

Veronica rested her back against the door for a moment, then pushed off it and headed for the stairs.

“Honey?” her father called after her, but she waved him off.

“I need a minute,” she mumbled as she slowly made her way upstairs. 

She walked out onto the balcony and curled up into a comfortable rattan wicker chair. She rested her face into her hands, crying silent tears. After a moment, she lifted her head and stared out at the cityscape, tears still falling.

She was unaware of how much time had passed when she was jarred from her thoughts by the sound of the glass doors opening. She briefly glanced over her shoulder to see Sadie approaching with two plates of food balanced on one arm as she closed the door behind her. She placed the plates of food on the table and sat down in the chair beside her. Sadie settled back into her chair remaining silent. Veronica ignored the food in front of her and continued to stare ahead.

“Am I self-destructive?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She turned to face Sadie. “Do you think I am? And don’t sugar coat it or anything.”

Sadie took a moment to respond, her expression thoughtful. “I think you are a person who from a young age has lived through significant trauma. When bad things happen they alter us, not at the core of who we are, but they do change us to a degree.” 

She paused for a moment, tracing her lips. 

“When bad things happen, or we get scared, we look back to a time that was easier. For you, that was the sweet, virginal Veronica Mars before she was raped, before her best friend was murdered, before her mother abandoned her and who dated the ‘Duncan Kanes of the world’—” 

Veronica shot Sadie a questioning look.

She smirked. “Yes, we heard that part,” she confirmed before continuing and you can bet Logan did too. “So you dated guys like him because it felt safe, but you could never quite make it fit. Because the truth is, in a world where your mother didn’t abandon you, where Lilly was not murdered, and you weren’t raped, the smart, sassy, brilliant person you are now is _exactly_ who you would have still become. The only difference is she wouldn’t believe that who she was was so unlovable.” 

Sadie reached out and took her hand. “So, no, I don’t think you are a self-destructive person. Self-sabotaging, yes, because you are in more pain then you would care to admit.”

Veronica crossed her arms and shot Sadie a sideward glance. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” She grinned.

\---

Logan handed Keith a beer, keeping a soda for himself, and sat down on the sofa adjacent to him. 

Keith looked up at the ceiling. “They’ve been up there awhile.”

“Yeah,” Logan answered as he sipped his drink.

“I always thought he was a decent guy, even after he broke it off with her.” Logan snorted. “What?”

“Nothing, just you Marses and your blind spots,” he answered bemusedly as he took another sip of his drink.

“I’m not following.”

“Veronica had this blind spot when it came to Piz, and _don’t_ get me started on the large Duncan Kane one she had.”

Keith took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, I never understood what she saw in him.”

“Piz wasn’t any better. He used to subtly flirt with her, in front of my face, _while_ we were dating,” Keith’s eyes widened, and Logan toasted him with his soda can. “Whenever we had an argument, he was right there playing the harmless, sensitive friend. Heck, when we broke up the last time, he moved right on in.” He chuckled darkly. 

“He what?”

“Yeah. The dick even had the nerve to make out with her at _my_ party in _my_ suite. Granted, it takes two to do the tongue-tango...but that's beside the point,” he deflected with a wave of his hand. “The guy was _always_ a douche. Tried telling her that once—”

“I can just imagine how that went over.”

“She might have called me a jealous jackass,” Logan grinned sheepishly. “Ahh, the good old days.”

“You want to survive my daughter, learn to pick your battles.” Keith raised his beer in salut.

“Sage advice I could have used back then.”

“True.” He took a swig of his beer. “But I didn’t like _you_ back then.”

“And you like me now?” 

“Well, I like you _better_ than the douche,” he conceded with a smirk.

“Eh, I’ll take it.” Logan knew all too well that after fifteen years, this was the highest of compliments.

“What are you guys talking about?” Keith and Logan turned their attention on Veronica and Sadie, who stood bemused at the base of the stairs.

“Douches,” they both said in unison.

Veronica put her hand up. “Okay, you two are freaking me out with this whole ‘getting along’ thing.” 

“Would you prefer us to not get along?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“At least it's entertaining,” she shot back. “And familiar. All this amiability seems a little uncanny valley.”

“I can break a lamp,” Logan offered, wagging his eyebrows.

Veronica made a show of backing away with her hands up in front of her. “Go crazy.” She pointed behind her toward the door. “We’re going for a walk.” Sadie chuckled as they put on their coats and left the apartment.

“It’s starting to become more and more clear why you were so smitten with him, and it has _nothing_ to do with him looking like that,” Sadie held out the crook of her arm and Veronica thread her arm through.

“Hey! No fantasizing about my ex,” she said in mock indignation.

“Not like you’re dating him.”

“Girl code,” she deadpanned.

“What are we, five?” Sadie grinned mischievously.

“Get your own, bitch.” She swatted Sadie’s arm.

“Whatever. In a week I’ll have hot doctors to play with.”

Veronica snorted. “Mentally unstable hot doctors. Sounds like a perfect match, given most psychologists and psychiatrists are crazier than the patients they treat.”

“Hey! I’m _perfectly_ sane!”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “You stare at people like you are mentally solving a Rubik’s cube. Not _at all_ creepy.”

“Says the psychology undergrad—”

“Who went on to graduate top of her class at Columbia Law,” she snarked. “Whose _primary_ motivation for studying psychology was so she could fuck with the socially inept unfortunates she cross-examines.”

“You’re _so_ sweet and kind. I can’t possibly fathom _why_ you didn’t become a psychologist,” Sadie said saccharinely. 

“And Professor Fields called me prickly.” She scrunched her nose. “Can’t imagine why.”

\---

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully and with an unspoken agreement to not discuss the Piz of it all. Veronica was exhausted both emotionally and physically, but sleep evaded her. Instead she lay in the dark, eyes wide open, watching the shadows of the night dance across her ceiling. The truth was, she could sleep if she wanted to, but she was acutely aware of what awaited her the minute she closed her eyes. 

Frustrated, she pulled back her covers, wincing as she shifted her feet over the side of her bed. She took a moment to let the pain subside. She took a breath and stood, her ribs protesting due to being immobile for the past hour. She silently padded her way out of her room and across the hall to Logan’s. She tapped on the door, careful not to wake everyone else.

“Logan,” she called, her voice subdued as she opened his door. “Are you awake?”

She heard movement and watched as the dark shape on the bed stirred. “I am now,” Logan’s voice rasped. She crossed the room and crawled onto the bed beside him, resting her back against the bed head.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked. 

Veronica remained silent. 

“Don’t want to sleep,” he surmised, and she was grateful she didn't have to explain it to him. Her dad would've gone on about the importance of sleep and the dangers of deprivation, which she was already familiar with, thank you very much. And Sadie would've comforted her but also turned it into a therapy session. Logan, well, he was always good at comfort. As if on cue, he rubbed a soothing trail up and down her arm. “Veronica, you need to sleep.”

“Have you ever not wanted to sleep?”

“Yeah,” he murmured as he sat up. “Sometimes after a hard mission and more times than I can count growing up.” There was a moment of silence before he continued, “She _used_ to protect me.”

“Your mom.” She nodded.

“I used to lie awake because I thought, if I fell asleep, he’d kill her. She started drinking more and more over time, then she started the pills. Eventually she stopped fighting him, and it got worse for me.” He was silent for a few minutes. “I could never sleep when he was home.”

“Bastard,” she murmured savagely.

“That he was.”

“I don’t want to relive it over and over again.” She drew in a sharp breath. “I just want it to stop.”

Logan drew her into his side, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “I know.” He kissed her hair and tucked her head under his chin.

  
Her words from earlier replayed over and over in her mind: _He still matters to me._


End file.
